


How Do You Solve A Problem Like Jon Lovett?

by AtThePleasureOfThePundit



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: M/M, Mentioned Character Death, Rated For In Progress Chapter, Sound of Music AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 18:19:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15757173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtThePleasureOfThePundit/pseuds/AtThePleasureOfThePundit
Summary: “In the future,” Captain Vietor said, closing the doors with a snap, “You’ll kindly remember that there are certain rooms in this house that are not to be disturbed.“Yes Captain, Sir,” Jon said, dipping his head. He couldn’t help staring at Captain’s face. If he smiled he might have dimples.“Why are you staring at me that way?” The Captain, asked.“Oh, well I was just expecting someone much older,” Jon answered, “You don’t look anything like a sea captain.”“Hm,” The Captain narrowed his eyes, “I’m afraid you don’t look very much like a tutor.”__It's 1938, in Austria and Captain Veitor can't seem to find a tutor for his seven adorable but troublesome children. Enter Jon Lovett, a charismatic teaching assistant from the academy just outside of Salzburg who's about to change all of their lives.





	How Do You Solve A Problem Like Jon Lovett?

**Author's Note:**

> Jesus Christ, I don't even know.... It's a Sound Of Music AU, if you've seen the movie you mostly know what's about to go down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jon stood still on top of the hill, letting the fresh air rush into him. God, the mountains were beautiful in the beginning of summer. The wind was soft and the sun was warm on his shoulders. He felt as though he was glowing from the inside out, his skin singing with the joy of being out in the open. The Academy was beautiful, but the small garden wasn’t large enough to run through like this. 

 

Jon threw his arms out wide and spun across the grass letting his voice carry through the wind. He wasn’t a perfect singer, not by a long shot, but his voice was robust and lively. The sound of the trees seemed to echo his song back to him. It was wonderful to be alive right now, and to see the summer come to Austria. 

 

Out here, no worries or troubles could find him. He was content to run, and sing for hours. The world seemed so big and complicated all the time, but here, everything was simple. The grass grew, the trees waved, the wind blew and Jon could sing at the top of his lungs and no one could tell him not to. Nothing could spoil this perfect moment. 

 

A cold shock stabbed through his heart as he heard a clock bell chime. 

 

“Oh-! Oh shit, shit, shit, shit,” he said, scrambling over to the grove of trees. “Pundit!” He called, searching for where she could have run off too, “Pundit! Pundit, come on! We’re going to be late!” 

 

Pundit came bounding out of the brush, a stick held triumphantly in her mouth. 

 

“There you are you genius girl,” Jon said, scooping her into his arms, “Oh, we’re in for it, Pundit. Oh, we’re going to be in so much trouble.”

 

__

 

“So he’s missing again then, is he?” Professor Miller said, haughty. “Well, at least he’s not assisting with any of my classes.” 

 

“He’s only been missing a few hours,” Professor Mastromonaco admonished, “It’s possible he just lost track of time in the library. You know how focused he can be when he gets reading.” 

 

“Yes, but if he were  _ in  _ the library, someone would have found him by now,” Headmaster Pfeiffer replied, effectively silencing the two of them, “and we have yet to find out where he’s run off to.”

 

The two professors bickered behind him as a young student hurried by. 

 

“Herr Cone,” The Headmaster, called out, stopping him in his tracks, “We seem to have lost one of our teaching assistants. You wouldn’t have happened to see Herr Lovett around, would you?” 

 

“No, Headmaster,” Herr Cone answered, trying to keep a hold of his books, “I haven’t seen him since yesterday.” 

 

“Perhaps we should have him kept on a leash,” Professor Miller quipped. 

 

“Thank you, Elijah,” Headmaster Pfeiffer dismissed him and continued his way as though he hadn’t heard the comment. 

 

“Well, I think this latest act of rebellion should put to rest any questions of Herr Lovett becoming a Professor here.” Professor Miller continued, “Perhaps it’s time he found a more suitable place to stay.” 

 

“This Academy has been Herr Lovett’s home since he was a little boy,” The Headmaster said mildly, “Someone’s home is always a suitable place for them to be, wouldn’t you agree?” 

 

“Besides, when he does teach, he’s wonderfully engaging,” Professor Mastromonaco answered, “The children love his lessons.”

 

“Yes, but what about when he is neither in the Academy or teaching, as he is now?” Professor Miller countered. 

 

Headmaster Pfeiffer ignored them, approaching three teaching assistants on the other side of the courtyard. 

 

“Headmaster,” The nearest of them said, ducking his head in respect as they approached. 

 

“Herr Maddison,” He responded, smiling at the three of them, “Herr Virtel, Frauline Brown.” Each of his former students nodded at his address, “We have been discussing the qualifications of one of your peers. Professor Mastromonaco and Professor Miller have been assisting me by expressing opposing points of view. I wonder if you would mind giving me your opinion on Herr Lovett?” 

 

“Well,” Herr Madison began, thoughtfully, “He’s a very nice person, most of the time.” 

 

“It’s very easy to like Herr Lovett,” Frauline Brown continued, “Except when it’s… Difficult.” 

“He’s very good with the children,” Herr Virtel added, “But, he does always seem to be in trouble.” 

 

“And late.” Professor Miller mentioned with a sharp look. The Headmaster nodded mulling their words over. 

 

“Yes, I mean, you’re not  _ wrong, _ ” Professor Mastromonaco protested, “But- I don’t know. I like Herr Lovett! He’s very passionate about his studies, and he’s generous with students who need more help. Plus! He makes me laugh.” 

 

There was a murmur of assent between all of them. 

 

“Well, you have all been thoroughly unhelpful,” Headmaster Pfeiffer said, smiling, “And I’m no closer to solving this problem.”

 

At that moment there was the crash of the back gate closing without any care, and a flurry of footsteps echoed out from the corridor nearby. In a whirlwind of movement, Jon rushed through the courtyard, his dog clutched tightly against his chest. When he caught sight of the headmaster and the professors he skidded to a halt, Pundit panting happily. 

 

“Headmaster!” He gasped, his breath short and his face flushed, “Oh, oh, I’m so  _ sorry!  _ I completely-” The Headmaster raised a hand to silence him. 

 

“You have a class to teach, Herr Lovett,” he admonished softly, “You’d better go wash up and get to it.” 

 

Jon ducked his head in thanks and scrambled off. 

 

“Well.” Professor Miller said, “At least now we know where he is.” 

 

__

 

Jon couldn’t help pacing outside The Headmaster’s office. He had always hated being reprimanded, but it never seemed to stop him from getting in trouble. He’d known Headmaster Pfeiffer nearly his whole life. 

 

He’d been ten when the academy had taken him in, after his parents died. Herr Pfeiffer had been assisting his English class. He’d been so scared and small and horribly sad, but Herr Pfeiffer and the other staff had ensured he felt welcome. He’d grown up beside other orphans like he was, as well as students whose parents couldn’t afford schooling. The Academy had a place for all of them, and a teaching position waiting for those who stayed. 

 

Which Jon would have if only he could make himself stay at The Academy instead of running off and doing something more exciting. He was a good teacher when he was actually there, but the idea of teaching the same lesson over and over drove him to the hills again and again. And as much as he loved The Academy, he was beginning to wonder if there was something missing from his life. 

 

The idea of leaving terrified him, but he couldn’t seem to make himself  _ stay.  _ No matter how settled and sure he was at The Academy, he couldn’t help thinking there were more things out there for him to discover. 

 

“You may go in, Herr Lovett,” Professor Mastromonaco said, stepping out of The Headmaster’s office, “Don’t be too worried, he’s not angry with you.” 

 

Jon was unconvinced. The Professor gripped his shoulder in comfort, before making her way down the hall to attend to the thousand other things she was responsible for. 

 

“Welcome, Herr Lovett,” Headmaster Peiffer said, shuffling some papers to the side. 

 

“Oh, Headmaster Peiffer,” Jon said, falling gracelessly into a chair, “I’m so sorry, you must be so angry with me. I-I just couldn’t help it! The gate were open, and Pundit wanted to go out, and I swore I’d be back in time for-”

 

“Herr Lovett,” The Headmaster admonished, “I did not call you in to make you apologize.” 

 

“Oh,” Jon said, thrown a little off balance. 

 

“No, I simply wanted to talk to you,” The Headmaster said kindly, “But perhaps you should tell me what’s so special about that mountain that it keeps stealing you away from us.” 

 

“Oh, it’s just-” Jon gestured absently, “It’s just so grand, and green, and beautiful, and the sky was so clear, and when I see it, I just  _ have  _ to be a part of it. It’s like I can’t stop myself from chasing it, even if I don’t know what it is I’m chasing.” 

 

“What if you were to stray too far and get lost?”

 

“Oh, I know my way around well enough, I’ve lived here since I was ten after all.” 

 

“You still very well could lose your way,” The Headmaster said sternly. 

 

“Yes, I know, but even that doesn’t seem to be able to stop me,” Jon continued restlessly, “And what’s worse, I can’t seem to stop  _ saying _ things. Everything I think and feel…”

 

“Well, some would consider that honesty.” The Headmaster said, more gently. 

 

“Oh, but it’s horrible, Headmaster!” Jon pressed, “It’s awful, all it seems to do is get me into trouble. You know how Professor Miller makes me apologize to the class whenever we get into a disagreement? Well, lately I’ve taken to apologizing to every class I assist him with, just to save time!” 

 

Headmaster Peiffer chuckled fondly at his former student. 

 

“Herr Lovett, this academy was created to provide children with the opportunity to receive schooling,” He said carefully, “And any student is more than welcome to train here as a Professor, however that does not necessarily mean that everyone who comes through our doors is meant to teach here.”

 

“Oh, but I am!” Jon interjected, “I’m really trying, and- and I have been getting better. I’ve learned so much here.”

 

“And what is the most important lesson you’ve learned?” The Headmaster asked kindly. 

 

“To find out the greatest strength of a student, and teach them to embrace it wholeheartedly.” Jon answered. 

 

There was a moment of silence.

 

“Jon,” The Headmaster started softly, “It seems to be that your strengths may be better suited outside The Academy.” 

 

“You- You want me to leave?” Jon felt a horrible wave of fear crash down on him, “You’re sending me away?” 

 

“No, no, no,” The Headmaster said, holding out a hand to silence him, “I simply mean, maybe it would a better fit if you were to take up a position as a private tutor. You’d only be away for the summer and you could return to us before the fall semester started.” 

 

“A private tutor?” Jon asked warily.

 

“Yes,” The Headmaster said, selecting a file from on of the piles on his desk. “Perhaps if you go out into the world knowing what we expect from you, you may know if you can expect it from yourself.”

 

“I know what you expect of me!” Jon said, a little desperately, “And I can do it! I promise I can!” 

 

“Jon…” The Headmaster said, smiling fondly, “I know you can. Remember I am your teacher, and I want to encourage your strengths as well. I’m not doing this to punish you.”

 

Jon sighed, shrinking down in his seat and nodding. 

 

“Now,” The Headmaster continued, “There is an estate near Salzburg with a family searching for a caretaker for seven children.” 

 

“Seven children?” Jon exclaimed. 

 

“Don’t you like children, Herr Lovett,” The Headmaster noted in surprise. 

 

“Well, yes but-  _ Seven?”  _ Jon had grown up in the academy, and considered many of his classmates family but, the idea of seven real siblings seemed exhausting. 

 

“I will tell Captain Vietor to expect you tomorrow.” The Headmaster said with a smile. 

 

“Captain?” Jon asked.

 

“Ah, he was an officer in the imperial navy. He’s retired now though, and I’m told he has no interest returning to the sea,” The Headmaster replied, “He’s a fine man. His wife died about five years ago, and it’s my understanding that he is looking for some help caring for so many children.” 

 

“Well, I could understand that,” Jon said, fidgeting, “...Tomorrow you said?” 

 

“Yes,” Headmaster Pfeiffer said, not looking up from his letter, “I wish you the best of luck.” 

 

___

 

“Well, Pundit, it’s time for us to go on a little trip.” 

 

Pundit just whined as he packed her bed away. 

 

“Oh, it’s alright,” He said rubbing her ears, “It’s okay, girl, we’re going to be just fine.” 

 

He may have been talking to the walls for all the reassurance the words gave him. 

 

“It will be just like the academy,” He said to Pundit, “We’ll teach children math, and they’ll think I’m brilliant and funny, and listen to me without any fuss. I’m going to be just fine!”

 

Pundit woofed softly and turned around on his bed to lay with her head on the pillow. 

 

“Oh come on,” He said, throwing his clothes into his bag “It’s just a new place with new people! How much different could it be from coming here?” 

___ 

 

Jon stood stock still, staring up at the mansion with awe. 

 

“Oh fuck,” he whispered under his breath. He picked up Pundit and tucked her into his bag. 

 

Without giving himself time to worry, he rushed up to the door and rang the bell, long and loud. A tall older gentleman opened the door, gazing down at Jon appraisingly. 

 

“Hello! Here I am!” Jon said cheerily. The man just stared down at him, raising his eyebrows. 

 

“I’m um, I’m here to teach the children. I’m their new caretaker.” Jon tried again, his spirit wilting slightly. 

 

“Ah,” said the man, a look of recognition and mild contempt crossing his face, “Welcome to the house, Herr-?”

 

“Herr Lovett, sir!” Jon said, holding his hand out to shake, “It’s lovely to meet you, Captain.”

 

The man didn’t move. 

 

“I’m Herr Franz, the butler of the estate,” he said with a tone of amusement. 

 

“Oh,” Jon said, embarrassment creeping up his face, “Well it’s nice to meet you all the same.” 

 

The man gave a tight, grim smile and moved to let Jon in. 

 

Jon couldn’t hold back a sharp gasp at the sight of the foyer. The walls were panelled in white wood with ornate gilded plaster. The chandelier sparkled where it hang as though it had never seen dust. The tables were all dark stained wood and the chairs had embroidered seats. It was like Jon had stumbled into a painting of a baroque estate, minus the electric lighting. 

 

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” he exclaimed, “I’ve never seen a place look so lovely.” Despite being so ornate and formal, the house seemed to be alive with colourful flowers set on display and the warmth of summer sleeping through the walls. 

 

“Wait here please,” Herr Franz said, giving Jon a peculiar look, “The Captain will want to meet you.” 

 

And then he was gone, slipped through a door and out of sight. Jon was left alone in this magnificent palace of a home. 

 

As the minutes crept on Jon found himself growing curious. There was a pair of beautiful oak doors to his right. Of everything in the hall, only this had a thin layer of dust on the handles. Unable to bear the temptation, Jon softly pushed the door open and stepped inside. 

 

For the second time in a minute, he felt his breath rush out of him. Before him stood a magnificent ballroom. The room was decorated wall to wall with mirrors and an army of chandeliers seemed to drip from the ceiling. Everything was gorgeous but, unlike everything else in the house, the room seems ancient and cold. It seemed like an artifact kept under glass, treasured but never touched or loved like it used to be. 

 

Jon stepped into the room, glancing at how out of place his reflection seemed framed in such a rich mirror. He could imagine this room teaming with life and laughter. He could practically see the chandeliers glowing, catching off jewels and cufflinks. It would be fantastic to see. 

 

Jon absentmindedly turned, moving across the gleaming floor to an imagined beat. He could feel the motion and heat of other dancers around him, and the thrum of a party around him. The joy of good people gathering in happy celebration coursing through them all. 

 

He had just selected a tall and handsome dance partner and was in the middle of bowing deeply when the doors were thrown open with a bang. Jon froze. 

 

The Captain was somehow exactly like Jon thought he would be, and nothing like he imagined. He was as broad and tall as Jon expected, looking especially so as he was framed in the doorway to the ballroom, backlit by the bright lights of the foyer. He stood with the sternness and poise befitting a man who had sailed a warring sea and won. His face, however, was boyish and fair. Not at all like a man who had seen battle and lived through grief. Lines barely touched his face, except where his brow was pinched in a frown. 

 

Jon couldn’t make himself move, still bent slightly, bowing to an imaginary dance partner. He suddenly felt foolish in his grubby trousers and straw hat, next to Captain Vietor in his fine wool suit. 

 

Fighting down a terrible flush, Jon scrambled back out into the hall. 

 

“In the future,” Captain Vietor said, closing the doors with a snap, “You’ll kindly remember that there are certain rooms in this house that are not to be disturbed. 

 

“Yes Captain, Sir,” Jon said, dipping his head. He couldn’t help staring at Captain’s face. If he smiled he might have dimples. 

 

“Why are you staring at me that way?” The Captain, asked. 

 

“Oh, well I was just expecting someone much older,” Jon answered, “You don’t look anything like a sea captain.” 

 

“Hm,” The Captain narrowed his eyes, “I’m afraid you don’t look very much like a tutor.” 

 

Jon had no idea what to say to that. Truly, he had never been a tutor before, much less to seven children. He figured it was best for him to just stay quiet, and allow The Captain to continue looking him over with a discerning eye.

 

“I’m not sure how much they’ve told you” The Captain said, in the stern tone Jon was beginning to recognize. He began to pace the hall, “But you are the twelfth in a series of tutors, all of whom have proved unable to manage my children. Since their mother died, I have been unable to find anyone willing to stay past a week in this house.” 

 

“What?” Jon said, his curiosity getting the better of him, “What’s wrong with the children?” 

 

The Captain stopped short and glared at him. 

 

“It is not the children,” He answered, low and dangerous, “It is the tutors who are unfit.” He resumed pacing the hall.

 

“No caretaker has been able to maintain discipline, without which this house cannot be run,” The Captain continued, “You would do best to remember that.” 

 

“Yes, Sir.” Jon answered, turning to keep facing The Captain.

 

“Every morning you will drill them in mathematics, as I am told you are learned. Each afternoon the children will walk with you through the grounds breathing deeply to keep them in good health.” The Captain had now made a complete lap around the foyer and Jon had to turn around to keep him in his line of sight. “Bed time is to be strictly observed, no exceptions-”

 

“Excuse me, Sir, but when are they free to play?” Jon interrupted. 

 

“I expect them to act with decorum and dignity at all times, and and it is up to you to keep the order,” The Captain said, finally turning around to face Jon, “I’m placing you in command.”

 

“Yes, Sir!” Jon said, saluting jauntily. 

 

The Captain stared at him as though unsure whether to be offended or not. Jon simply blinked at him, smiling mildly. 

 

Then in a completely unexpected motion, The Captain produced a whistle from his pocket with a flourish, and blew a long, loud note. 

 

Jon stumbled back, and braced himself against a side table decorated with some antique vase as a sound like thunder erupted from the upper floor. On the balcony above them, six children quickly arranged themselves in a line. They were all handsome like their father, and pleasantly rosy with summer. 

 

The Captain blew his boatswain again, this time to a steady beat and the children began marching in perfect unison down the steps. Their identical sailor uniforms flounced dramatically in time. 

 

Jon bit his tongue to keep from laughing. The hilarity of watching six children marching with the precision of trained soldiers was almost more than he could handle. They dutifully circled the carpet and arranged themselves into a straight line, before, at their father’s signal they turned about face and stopped. Jon glanced at The Captain and bit down harder to stop a giggle forcing its way out of his mouth. The Captain could have been looked at an entire fleet of ships at his command, rather than six rosy cheeked babies in sailor suits. 

 

A clatter of footsteps caused Jon to turn and glance down the hall, as a young girl scurried into the room, a book tucked under her arm. She slipped seamlessly into the line and straightened her back. Jon almost felt a kinship with her, at her lateness and distraction. 

 

“This is your new caretaker, Herrlein Lovett,” The Captain addressed the children, and Jon felt his whole face flush with embarrassment. He clenched his fist to stop his hands from shaking in anger. How  _ dare  _ The Captain refer to him that way.* The Captain tossed a second whistle at Jon, and he scrambled to catch it. “Learn their signals that you may call them as you want them. I will not have shouting in this house.” 

 

Jon opened his mouth to object, but Captain Vietor had already turned back to the children. He blew a series of whistles and the children marched forward at each.

 

“Liesl!” 

 

“Friedrich!”

 

“Louisa!”

 

“Kurt!” 

 

“Brigitta!”

 

“Marta!” 

 

The youngest girl stomped forward angrily, but refused to answer with her name. The Captain gave a deep sigh.

 

“Gretl.” He relayed to Jon, “Now, let's see how well you remembered.” 

 

Jon was about to answer that he would not whistle when the children had perfectly fine names to be used, when Pundit, who had since been sleeping,  hopped out of his bag and trotted happily up to Marta. 

 

The Captain’s mouth fell open, as his daughter squealed and dropped her her knees next to the dog. 

 

“Oh dear,” Jon said, grinning as Marta fed Pundit a cracker from her pocket, “She’ll be your best friend now.” Marta smiled at him, as Pundit licked her face. 

 

Marta jumped back up at a loud whistle from her father. Pundit, scared by the noise, scampered back to Jon and jumped up into his arms. 

 

“Herrlein.” Captain Vietor said, a tempest of fury clearly brewing in his voice, “There are strict rules regarding this household, and I will not permit an animal  to abide in my home!” 

 

“Pundit’s not an animal, she’s a gift from God.” 

 

The children giggled as The Captain’s mouth dropped open. He looked utterly speechless. Recovering, he stamped his foot to quiet the children, and straightened his jacket. 

 

“We will deal with this later.” He glared at Pundit, panting happily in Jon’s arms. “Now, when I want to summon you, you will hear this.” 

 

The Captain blew a shrill sound on the boatswain, causing Pundit to yip and squirm to get away. This was one too many injustices for Jon to suffer.

 

“No, no, sir, I’m sorry, sir!” he yelled, his voice rising to carry over the whistle. The Captain looked at him incredulously. 

 

“No, I will not answer to a whistle.” Jon said, his breath shuddering out of him, “Whistles are for dogs and animals and ships and trains, but not for children, and definitely not for me.” Hurt crept unwillingly into his tone, “It would be humiliating, and I won’t.” 

 

The Captain gave him a discerning stare and tucked his whistle back in his pocket. 

 

“Herrlein,” he said, stepping closer to Jon, “Were you this much trouble at the academy?” 

 

“Oh, much more sir!” Jon answered. Pundit licked his chin. The Captain let out another long suffering sigh and began to leave. 

 

He was interrupted by a loud whistle and whirled around to see Jon, looking at him expectantly. 

 

“Excuse me, sir, but I don’t know your signal.” Jon said, dangling his boatswain between his fingers. 

 

For a long moment Captain Vietor looked like he might yell. 

 

“You may call me ‘Captain.’” 

 

The children tittered slightly as he stomped off, but settled eerily quickly as Jon turned back to them. 

 

“Heh, at ease,” he joked, and then startled when they relaxed in a well trained unison. Oh, these poor children. 

 

“Alright, um, now that we’ve been introduced,” Jon said, nervously, letting Pundit jump to the floor, “Would you please tell me your names again, more slowly, and how old you are.” 

 

The eldest girl stepped forward proudly. 

 

“I’m Liesl. I’m sixteen, and I don’t need anyone taking care of me,” She said, sharply. Jon couldn’t help smiling at how girlish and young she looked, in  comparison to how grown up she tried to sound. 

 

“Well, that’s good to know,” Jon answered, “I’ll just be a good friend that you have to listen to.” 

 

“I’m Friedrich.” The eldest boy said, his shoulders very square, “I’m fourteen and I’m impossible.”

 

“People said that about me when I was fourteen,” Jon said smiling, “And also last week.” 

 

Friedrich seemed to smile in spite of himself. 

 

“I’m Brigitta,” The next oldest girl said.

 

“Nice to meet you, Brigitta, I’m the King of France,” Jon answered. The girl scowled at him, “and I’m still wondering how old you are Louisa.”  The other children giggled softly. 

 

“I’m Brigitta,” The next eldest girl said stepping forward, “She’s Louisa. She’s thirteen, and you’re smart! I’m ten, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen shoes uglier than yours.”  

 

“Brigitta you shouldn’t say that!” The boy standing next to her admonished.

 

“Why not?” She said, gesturing, “They’re ugly shoes!” 

 

“Oh, sure, but they’re not as ugly as Fraulein Helga’s dress.” He continued, “I’m Kurt. I’m eleven. And I’m incorrigible.” 

 

“Well, good for you,” Lovett said, glancing at his worn shoes. 

 

“What does incorrigible mean?” Kurt asked. 

 

“I think it means you know what you’d like to do, and you’d rather everyone stopped telling you how to do it.” Lovett answered, smiling. Kurt grinned back at him, satisfied. 

 

Lovett started slightly when he felt a soft tug on his sleeve. He looked down to see the second youngest girl staring up at him. 

 

“I’m Marta, and I’m going to be seven on Tuesday, and I think your puppy is really cute.” She said, “What’s her name?” 

 

“Her name is Pundit,” Jon said, smiling as the dog in question sniffed around the foyer, “It’s a complicated English word you don’t need to know.” 

 

Marta giggled and trotted off after her. The youngest girl stomped her foot twice to get Jon’s attention. 

 

“Yes, hello! Gretl right?” Jon said, leaning down to look at her properly, “It is lovely to meet you.” He held out his hand for her to shake, and she smiled a little as she took it. 

 

“She’s five,” Brigitta said from down the line, “But she doesn’t like new people.”

 

“Well, that’s too bad,” Jon said, smiling, “because I think I like her best.” 

 

Gretl giggled a little, and Jon was glad to see her happier. 

 

“Now, you’ll um- you’ll have to forgive me,” Jon said, straightening up, “I’m a little out of my depth here. I’ve never been a caretaker before.”

 

There was a ripple of interest from the children at that. 

 

“You mean, you don’t know anything about being a guardian?” Louisa asked, smiling. 

 

“Well, no,” Lovett said, “I’ve been a teacher before, though.”

 

“Oh, we’ll be sure to help you,” Friedrich said, nodding at his siblings. As if in one mind they began to crowd around him.

 

“The first thing you should know is to tell Father to mind his own business.” Louisa continued. 

 

“Oh, and never come to dinner on time,” Kurt said quickly. 

 

“And make sure to bring up politics during dessert,” Brigitta added.

 

“Don’t listen to them!” Gretl shrieked from the outside edge of the group. 

 

“Oh?” Jon said, feeling more than a little overwhelmed. 

 

“No. I like you, Herr Lovett, and I want you to  _ stay. _ ” She stamped her foot to emphasize the point and Liesl laughed. 

 

“Alright, children!” A kindly looking woman called as she bustled through the french doors, “Go on now dears, it’s time for an afternoon walk. It’s your father’s orders, and I’m not in the mood to fight with him.” 

 

The children all retreated back from Jon, walking in a solemn assemblage to the front door. 

 

“You must be Herr Lovett,” The woman said, offering her hand, “I’m Frau Schmidt, the housekeeper. Let me show you to your room.”

 

“Oh, pleasure to meet you,” Jon said, shaking her hand. She had a wonderful warmth about her, that he hadn’t felt inside the house before. “Pundit!” 

 

Pundit trotted over from where she’d been sniffing, and jumped back into his bag to be carried upstairs. Jon caught Frau Schmidt smiling at her. 

 

“Right this way,” Frau Schmidt said, leading Jon up the staircase.

 

“Oh, those poor little dears,” Jon whispered to her, “what a miserable way to spend the summer.”

 

Just then, he felt a singularly peculiar movement in his pocket. He reached into his jacket and narrowly held back a shriek when a frog jumped out onto the stairs, and quickly crawled out the door. 

 

Jon stared in horror at the children as they smirked at each other and walked out into the garden. 

 

“Oh, count yourself lucky,” Frau Schmidt said, unfazed, “With Fraulein Helga, it was a snake.” 

 

___

 

“Oh, Pundit,” Jon said, laying back on his bed and letting her curl up on his chest, “I’m about to royally fuck this up aren’t I?” 

 

Pundit just nosed at his chin, trying to get his attention. He absentmindedly scratched her ears, thinking only of the disastrous day he just had. 

 

“I… Oh my god, I have no idea what I’m doing here,” Jon moaned, covering his eyes with his elbow, “I don’t know how to- I’ve been here five minutes and they  _ hate me! _ The children, and The Captain and- Pundit, this is terrible, how did I ever think that I could do this?”

 

He could feel his throat closing and he fiercely missed the academy. The Headmaster would know how to deal with this. Hell, he’d even love the chance to ask Professor Miller for advice. Anything to stop him feeling so vastly out of his depth. 

 

“I give it a week before they send me away,” Jon continued miserably, “Or less if The Captain keeps up his ‘good mood.’” 

 

Pundit sprang off his chest and sniffed about her bowl, picking out the last few pieces of her dinner. 

 

“Still hungry, girl?” Jon asked, “You’ve already had your supper- Oh  _ shit!”  _

 

With a thrill greater than he’d felt in years, he whipped his head around to look at the clock. 

 

“Oh shit,” he said, again rocketting out of bed and tucking in his shirt. He was nearly fifteen minutes late for supper, and based on the way the children had acted, he guessed punctuality was important to The Captain. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he let someone down by being late to something. 

 

“Be good, Pundit!” He called over his shoulder, before racing down the stairs and running into the dining room. 

 

The Vietor family all sat in near perfect stillness only reacting when Jon stumbled in. The Captain huffed out an exasperated sigh, and gestured to the empty chair at the other end of the table. Next to the neatness of the eight of them, Jon felt particularly messy. 

 

“Good evening,” He said, more confidently than he felt, and walked calmly to his seat. The Captain’s eyes tracked him coldly. “Apologies for making you wait.”

 

The children glanced at each other, smiling conspiratorially. Jon sat down, and then leapt up with a shriek as a sharp pain shot through him. Glancing down, Jon saw someone had placed a pine cone on his seat. He narrowed his eyes as the children innocently smirked at their plates.

 

The Captain just looked at him with a mystified distaste. 

 

“Herrlein, that is a charming little ritual.” He said, incredulously, “A habit you picked up at the academy?” 

 

“Oh, no just ah-” Jon brushed the pine cone away and sat down, “Just surprised myself is all.” 

 

He noticed the children glance at him in surprise. They wouldn’t get a rise out of him so easily. Or maybe they were just glad to have escaped punishment. 

 

The Captain began to eat and the children followed suit. Taking his cue from them, Jon started on his soup. 

 

“Now, I did want to thank the children for the darling little present that they left in my pocket today,” He said, and watched as all of the children stiffened in fear. 

 

“Oh?” The Captain said, glancing at his children, “What present?” 

 

Jon took a moment to glance shrewdly at Kurt who was sitting nearest to him. His blue eyes blinked up at Jon, pleading silently for mercy. 

 

“It’s meant to be a secret between me and the children,” Jon said, as all the children relaxed. 

 

“Well, perhaps it’s best that you keep it, and let us eat,” The Captain said sharply. Liesl smiled a bit at Jon over her water glass. 

 

“It’s as if they knew how nervous I was,” Jon continued, “How frightened I must have been, being in a new place, and how important it was for me to feel welcomed. It was so very kind of you all to make my first moments serving your family so warm and inviting and pleasant.” 

 

As he spoke Louisa’s shoulders hunched up around her ears, and she couldn’t meet his eyes. In turn, Brigitta bit her lip and stared down at her plate as Friedrich swallowed thickly. 

 

The Captain glanced around the table at his children, confused at their sudden guilt and lack of composure. Marta caught his eye and burst into tears. 

 

“Marta, what is it?” The Captain asked, his brow still furrowed in deep perplexion. 

 

“Nothing, father,” she sobbed, as Gretl followed her into tears. Jon ignored this display and calmly continued with his soup. 

 

“Herrlein, will you always be guiding the children through this wonderful new world of… indigestion at every meal?” The Captain asked, completely astonished, “Or will this only be a joy we receive at dinner?”

 

“Oh the children are fine, they’re just happy.” Jon answered breezily as the children wept louder. 

 

___

 

Thankfully, the outburst quieted by the end of the soup, and when it was time for dessert, they had all but forgotten the disaster. Jon was just enjoying some lemon shaved ice when Herr Franz entered, with a small envelope. 

 

“Telegram for you, Sir,” He said, handing the envelope over The Captain’s shoulder. The Captain accepted it with a nod.

 

“Who delivered it, Franz?” Liesl asked.

 

“That young lad, Rolfe,” Herr Franz answered easily. Jon noticed Liesl’s eyes shining with excitement. 

 

“May I be excused, father?” She asked, and Jon couldn’t help grinning at her eagerness. 

 

“No…” The Captain answered, still reading the telegram. Liesl deflated, and Jon made a note to remind her that teenage boys were little more than trouble. “Children, two weeks from now I will be going back to Vienna.” All the children groaned. 

 

“Oh, really?” Brigitta whined, her face falling. 

 

Her father silenced her and the rest of them with a stern look. 

 

“How long will you be gone?” Friedrich asked, quietly. 

 

“I don’t know, Friedrich,” The Captain answered. Jon watched as Liesl rose to refill her water glass and then slip out the door behind her father. 

 

“Are you visiting The Baron again?” Brigitta asked. 

 

“Oh, mind your own business, Brigitta,” Kurt said, pushing his spoon through his dessert. 

 

“As a matter of fact, yes I am, Brigitta,” The Captain answered, ignoring Kurt. 

 

“Why can’t we ever seen The Baron?” Gretl asked, morosely, “I miss him.” 

 

“Yeah, it’s been almost a year,” Louisa said, “I want to see him too.”

 

“Why would he want to come and see you?” Kurt sneered at her. 

 

“It just so happens that you will get to see The Baron,” The Captain continued, “He’s going to come back with me, and visit with you all.” Jon’s heart skipped, as The Captain’s face became softer, almost apprehensive, before returning to his cold mask of indifference. 

 

The children, however, seemed delighted at this response, and talked excitedly among themselves about what they wanted to tell The Baron when he got here. 

 

Jon, however, was haunted by the look on The Captain’s face when he spoke of The Baron coming to the house. It was a more vulnerable expression than he’d ever seen on The Captain’s face. It was something soft and close to affection. The Baron clearly meant something important to the family, and Jon wasn’t about to question that. It was curious though, to see something so gentle in someone so harsh and sharp. 

 

The thought followed Jon that whole night and kept him awake longer than it should have. 

 

___

 

The next two weeks went by quickly. Lovett got up in the morning and ate breakfast with the family, and then drilled them through lessons until lunch. After lunch, the children were sent out onto the grounds to march and get some fresh air. It took about three days of the routine for Lovett to be bored out of his wits, and he imagined the children were of the same mind. 

 

To combat the drudgery, he started making his lessons stray more and more from the textbooks he was given. Thankfully, ever since he let them get away with their inaugural pranks, they’d treated him with considerably more respect than before, and they accepted his fun problems with a smile and a few grateful giggles. 

 

The most peculiar part of it all was that The Captain seemed to disappear inside his study or out onto the grounds for hours on end. He was lost to Jon except at meal times. Worst of all, he never seemed to be with his children. He spoke to them shortly, and only when absolutely necessary. 

 

On one occasion Friedrich had asked him for information on some battle that Lovett had never heard of.

 

“Why don’t you go ask your father?” He’d offered, “I’m sure he knows more about Austrian military history than I would.” 

 

Friedrich had just shrugged and dropped the subject. 

 

“I don’t think he’d like me bothering him right now,” Friedrich had answered, “Thank you though, Herr Lovett.” 

 

Jon could remember his parents. The few memories of his home were among the most comforting and gentle thoughts he could turn to. He hated the idea that these children would not have the same gentle memories of their father. 

 

These thoughts seemed to hover around his head like a dense cloud. So much so, he almost thought he’d imagined it when a storm rolled in on Sunday evening. Thankfully, the summer rain was warm, and Jon had a thick duvet to keep out any drafts. He was sitting in bed with Pundit at his feet, trying to compose a letter to The Headmaster when he was interrupted by a knock at the door. Putting his writing aside, Lovett rose and answered.

 

“Oh, good evening Herr Lovett,” Frau Schmidt said in her mild mannered tone, once the door was opened. 

 

“Oh, hello, Frau Schmidt,” Jon said, “What brings you up here at such a late hour?”

 

“The Captain had these sent in from town,” She answered, stepping in and holding out a selection of thin, flat boxes, “Jackets and shirts and the like. He said he wanted you to look more respectable when you were instructing the children.” 

 

Jon flushed, thinking of his ratty hand me down shirts and the homemade jacket that he nearly always wore. As embarrassed as he was, he couldn’t help feeling slightly touched by the gesture.”

 

“Thank him for me will you?” Jon answered, “This really is a lovely thought.” 

 

Frau Schmidt nodded blithely and busied herself closing the curtains. 

 

“Listen, do you think The Captain would send away for some fabric if I asked?” Jon said, placing the boxes down on a nearby chair.

 

“What could you possibly want that for?” She asked. 

 

“I wanted to make some play clothes for the children.” He answered, “They need clothes that they can run around in and not worry about ruining anything.” 

 

“The Vietor children do not play,” Frau Schmidt said, snapping the windows closed with a sharp movement, “They march.” 

 

“Oh, come on,” Jon said, exasperated at this ridiculous explanation, “They’re  _ children. _ Surely you don’t approve of all that?”

 

Frau Schmidt sighed heavily before turning to face Jon again. 

 

“Ever since The Captain lost his dear wife, it’s as though he doesn’t see this house as his home anymore. So, he’s taken it upon himself to run it as though it were one of his ships,” She said, gravely, “Whistles, and orders. No more music, no more laughing. Nothing that reminds him of her. Not even their children.” 

 

Jon felt a deep knot of sadness inside him tighten.

 

“But… But it’s so  _ wrong, _ ” He stressed, “They need him, and he needs them, and they could learn to laugh together again.”

 

Frau Schmidt shrugged. 

 

“Ah well,” She said, straightening the bedspread, “How are you finding your room? They’ll be new drapes at the windows by Wednesday.”

 

“Why? These are fine?” Jon asked.

 

“Nevertheless, new ones have been ordered.” Frau Schmidt said, bustling over to the door. Jon accepted that he would never understand rich people.

 

“Frau Schmidt?” He called, rushing after her, “If I asked about the fabric tomorrow-”

 

“I’m afraid The Captain is leaving for Vienna in the morning,” She answered. 

 

“Right, of course,” Jon said, “How long did he say he would be gone for?” 

 

Frau Schmidt’s face was overcome with a conspiratorial expression that Jon had come to associate with the most scandalous gossip. 

 

“Well, it all depends,” She said, lightly, “The last time he visited The Baron he stayed for a whole month.” 

 

She glanced over her shoulder and down the hall before leaning in closer. 

 

“Now, I really shouldn’t be saying this,” She said, “Not to you, I mean, I don’t know you all that well, but it has been clear to me that for a number of years, The Captain and The Baron have been  _ particularly  _ close.” 

 

“Oh?” Jon asked softly. 

 

“Yes,” Frau Schmidt continued, “I’m only telling you because- well, they’re very discreet, but... I wouldn’t want you caught off guard and shocked by this sort of thing, and you really never can tell who will kick up a fuss about something.”

 

“Oh- No. No fuss from me,” Jon said, this revelation crashing over him, “No fuss at all.”

 

“Good to hear,” Frau Schmidt said smiling, “Goodnight Herr Lovett.” 

 

Jon closed the door on her retreating form in a trance. The Captain and The Baron. The  _ Captain.  _ He sat back down on his bed, completely stuck on this thought. 

 

“Oh my god,” He whispered to the empty room. 

 

A clap of thunder rocked him back to reality and Jon shook himself. The Captain’s private business was none of his concern. Frau Schmidt, he had learned, was particularly fond of gossiping, and gossip wasn’t a reliable source even on the best days. 

 

He picked up his letter and read it over, trying to figure out how best to tell The Headmaster about his experience so far. 

 

“Alright, Pundit, how does this sound?” he said, settling back in, “‘Dear Headmaster Pfieffer, how are things back at the academy? Please tell everyone that I miss them. I know exams will have finished by now, so you should be enjoying at least a small break.’” 

 

Another clap of thunder rang out and Jon’s other window blew open in the wind. Pundit yipped softly, but didn’t uncurl from her tightly wound place beside him.

 

“‘I’ve been well,’” Jon continued from the letter, “‘The estate is as lovely as you said, and the family is-’” here he had scratched out several adjectives, “-just as varied as the countryside around them. The children seem very receptive to my lessons, which is wonderful, and they all are very bright. I’ve been getting to know each of them better, and trying to find their strengths like you taught me. It’s difficult though-”

 

Jon stumbled to a stop over the words as a rain drenched teenager clamoured through his window and toppled out onto the floor. As he watched in astonishment, Liesl gathered herself up and made a beeline for the door, as though if she just escaped the room, Jon wouldn’t notice her. 

 

“‘It’s been difficult,’” Jon began again hastily, “‘because, the children don’t seem to want to talk to me. ” 

 

Liesl froze, her hand on the door. 

 

“I hope that in time,” Jon continued, not reading anymore, “That they will all know that I mean to help them. And I hope that Liesl in particular tells me want she’s been up to, sneaking out of the house after dinner now and again. I’m worried for her, and I hope she’s not being reckless.” 

 

Liesl whirled around, eyes wide and rushed up to the bed. 

 

“You knew?” she said in a hushed tone.

 

“Yes, I knew,” Jon said, putting the letter down, “And if I noticed, it’s only a matter of time before someone else does.”

 

“Oh, but-” Liesl seemed to struggle with herself for a moment, “I just was walking around the grounds, and someone locked the doors early, and I didn’t want to wake everyone up. And I saw your window and…” 

 

She trailed off and the only sound in the room was her skirts dripping on the floor.

 

“Liesl,” Jon said lowly, “Were you alone on this walk?” 

 

Liesl struggled again. 

 

“No,” She admitted softly, “No, I was with that delivery boy, Rolfe.”

 

“Were you?” Jon said, sitting forward, “And was this a  _ romantic _ walk?”

 

Liesl flushed darker and worried the fabric of her dress in her hands. 

 

“Please don’t tell Father,” she whispered. 

 

Jon thought it would probably do Liesl no good to have her father angry with her for sneaking around with a boy.

 

“No, I won’t tell.” Jon said, watching as she deflated in relief, “But I will tell you that teenage boys are only focused on themselves. No matter how much they care about you, they’ll always put their own interests first.” 

 

Liesl laughed a little. 

 

“Oh he’s not like that,” She said, “He just wants to look out for me.” 

 

“Still,” Jon replied, getting up to close the window, “I know a thing or two, just be careful.”

 

“Oh, I will be,” She answered, still smiling, “A few weeks ago I told you I didn’t need a caretaker, but now I’m thinking maybe I do.”

 

Jon couldn’t help grinning to himself as he pulled the window shut. Staring down from the second floor he was a little dizzied by the prospect of someone climbing up the wall in the rain.

 

“How in the world did you manage to get up here?” He asked incredulously.

 

“Louisa taught us how!” Liesl answered gleefully. “It’s how we would play tricks on our tutors.” 

 

Jon sighed, deciding that questions about the children’s behaviour would be better saved for another day. He crossed to his wardrobe and pulled a few things out. 

 

“Here,” he said, offering Liesl a pair of pajamas. “Change out of those wet clothes and then you can tell me all about this boy you’ve taken up with.”

 

Liesl gratefully took the pajamas and scampered into the bathroom to change. Jon shook his head fondly. Whether he liked it or not, these children were growing on him. 

 

The thunder clapped again, and Jon turned back to the bed. He was just about to pick up his writing supplies and tuck them back into his desk when the door to his room flew open. It took him a moment to realize no one was in the doorway. Instead, little Gretl had tucked herself just inside the room, pressed against the wall. 

 

“Oh, Gretl,” He said gently, “Are you scared?” 

 

Another ferocious clamour of thunder sent her running to him and burying her face in his midriff. 

 

“You’re not frightened of a little thunderstorm are you?” He said, bending down to her level. The poor girl looked close to tears. “Oh don’t you worry, you just stay right here with me, and we’ll wait it out.” 

 

He picked her up easily and carried her over to the rocking chair in the corner of his room. 

 

“There,” He said, settling her on his lap, “Now we just have to wait for the others.” 

 

“No, they’re asleep. They’re not scared,” Gretl said miserably. “And I was all alone in the dark and the thunder was so loud and-”

 

Her words were cut off by another boom from outside, and she buried her face in Jon’s shoulder. To his amusement, his door swung open again and three more pale, freckled children poked their heads in. 

 

“Oh look,” Jon said, jostling Gretl. “I think we’ve got some company.” 

 

Gretl giggled as Brigitta, Marta, and Louisa slowly crept inside. 

 

“Come on, come on,” Jon said beckoning them, “Sit on the rug, we’ll wait out the storm together.”

 

“There’s no reason to be scared of a storm,” Brigitta said, as the girls gathered around the rocking chair. “It can’t hurt us.” 

 

“That’s true,” Jon said, rocking gently. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not scary.” 

 

As if to prove his point, another clap of thunder split the air and the girls all dove for cover. For the third time his door swung open, and the last two Vietor children stumbled inside. 

 

“Oh, hello boys,” Jon said, smiling mildly at them. “The storm scared you in here too?” 

 

“We weren’t scared,” Friedrich said, straightening his back. “We just- We wanted to make sure that you weren’t.”

 

“Oh, that’s very thoughtful,” Jon said. “Come join us on the rug.” 

 

The boys gratefully joined the clan as the storm rumbled overhead. 

 

“Why is the storm so loud?” Gretl whispered, still buried in Jon’s shirt. “It’s awful.”

 

“Oh no,” Jon said, arranging her on his lap. “It’s just a conversation. The lightning says something to the thunder, and the thunder answers back.” 

 

“They must be so angry at each other,” Marta said.

 

“Not angry, no,” Jon said. “They’re having a friendly debate about who should be in the sky right now.”

 

“Then why are they shouting so loudly?” Marta shouted over another crack of thunder.

 

“Well, they’re just making compelling points!” Jon replied. “Sometimes you just need to argue emphatically!” 

 

Louisa giggled a bit, and settled back. 

 

“Maybe you should argue back,” Jon suggested. “Pick a side and let the storm hear it.”

 

“What sort of argument can you have with a storm?” Brigitta asked. 

 

“Oh, any sort of argument,” Jon said, glad to take their mind off the thunder. “Just pick your favourite, and when the storm picks a fight, shout it out.”

 

“Like what?” Kurt asked, as lightning lit up the room.

 

“Like-” Jon thought quickly. “No, Professor Miller,  _ your  _ reading of  _ As I Lay Dying _ isn’t nuanced or organized!” 

 

The thunder rumbled and crackled in response. The children giggled, and Jon was happy to see Gretl uncurl from his shirt slightly. 

 

“Go on, you try it,” Jon said. “It’s much less scary when you’re fighting back.” Another crack of thunder filled the room. “Restaurants should have bread before meal all the time! With oil! Sometimes I’m hungry before I eat dinner!” 

 

Friedrich laughed, and Marta peeked out from her fingers. The next flash of lightning saw Kurt leep to his feet and pump his fist in the air as though scolding the sky.

 

“Summer should last forever!” He shouted. “And Fraulein Wagner had no reason to put me in detention last April!” 

 

All the children giggled, and Jon found himself smiling at them. They were much nicer children when they remembered to have some fun. 

 

“Pink is the best colour!” Marta chimed in, “No matter what Kurt says!” 

 

“Christmas should come more than once a year!” Friedrich said standing, “And the older you are the more presents you should get!” 

 

“No way!” Louisa said, grabbing a pillow off of Jon’s bed and walloping her brother. 

 

“Telegrams should come every day,” Liesl said, stepping out of the bathroom, “And I should be allowed to walk in the garden at night!” 

 

“Dogs should be allowed in the house!” Brigitta crowed righteously. Pundit yipped at the storm and jumped up at the bed, barking at the rambunctious children. 

 

“Father shouldn’t go to Vienna!” Louisa said, dodging Friedrich as he whipped the pillow back at her. 

 

Suddenly, the door to Jon’s room slammed open and a huge flash of lightning split the sky, illuminating the broad figure of The Captain, framed in the doorway. Thunder crashed through the air and everyone fell silent as fear crept back up through all of them. Before Jon could even speak the children were scrambling back into a line, backs straight. 

 

“Herrlein,” The Captain said, his voice dangerously low, “Did I not tell you that bedtime was to be strictly observed.” 

 

Jon rose from the rocking chair and stood between The Captain and his children. 

 

“Yes, Sir,” He answered, carefully. He couldn’t help feeling as though he was a child himself, caught breaking the rules. 

 

“And do you or do you not have trouble remembering such simple instructions?” The Captain asked coldly. 

 

“Only during thunderstorms,” Jon answered, his back straight. The Captain’s eyes narrowed. 

 

“Alright, all of you to bed. Immediately.” The Captain ordered, and the children moved to obey quickly. They streamed out of the room as quietly as they had come in, and disappeared down the hall. 

 

“Herrlein,” Captain Vietor said, gazing at Jon peculiarly, “You have managed to remember that I am leaving for Vienna in the morning, have you not?” 

 

Jon nodded. 

 

“And I hope that you will also remember that the first rule of this house is discipline.” He continued sharply, “And when I return, I will expect that you will have learned some.” 

 

Jon couldn’t help the sudden anger that rose up in him. The Captain had an impressive air that made Jon feel small and meek around him. Without another word, The Captain turned to go. 

 

“Captain,” Jon called, rushing after him, “I was- I was wondering if I could ask for some material to make the children some new clothes.” 

 

“Herlein-” The Captain began, his features settling into a rather bitchy arrangement as he rolled his eyes.

 

“If I could just give them something to play in!” Jon persisted, “Just something they didn’t mind getting dirty!” 

 

“Herrlein, you are obviously many things, not the least of which is…” The Captain looked Jon up and down, “Repetitious.” 

 

“But they’re  _ children!”  _ Jon pressed, sure if he could just make this man understand how important this was, The Captain would see that he was right. 

 

“Yes,” The Captain snapped, his eyes going cold, “And  _ I  _ am their father.” 

 

There was a moment of silence where The Captain regarded Jon with an entirely exasperated expression. 

 

“Goodnight,” He said, flippantly, and shut the door behind him. 

 

“Asshole,” Jon mumbled, stalking back to the rocking chair and sitting down heavily. The storm crashed again, and he angrily kicked at the drape until it covered the window. 

 

“Stupid drapes.” He said to no one in particular, “Stupid big rich house with stupid fancy drapes. Stupid Captain for thinking anyone  _ needs  _ new drapes. Stupid-” 

 

He stopped, his foot still caught in the fabric of the drape. He turned his slipper this way and that, looking at the embroidered fabric. 

 

“Oh,” He whispered, a wicked grin spreading across his face “Oh, Pundit I think I’ve just had the  _ worst _ idea.” 

 

___

 

The next day, early in the morning, Captain Vietor awoke before the rest of the household, and left for Vienna without saying goodbye. 

 

In the late afternoon, his children all spilled out the same door wearing a matching array of green brocade. They paraded in a messy array, all of them chattering and chasing after Jon as he led them to town. 

 

“I’ve never had a dress like this,” Brigitta said, twirling a little so her skirt fluttered around her. 

 

“Sundresses!” Jon said happily, “Truly nothing better in the summer. Can’t beat em.” 

 

Brigitta just giggled and comically marched with her knees up high, testing how much she could move. 

 

They made a long trek through town, buying bread and cheese and all sorts of picnic supplies. 

 

After collecting enough food to satisfy seven growing children, Jon herded them all to the train station and onto the small carriage car. 

 

“Come on,” he urged them, “Time to spend your summer in the best place I know.” 

___

 

It was a good twenty minute walk up through the green hills of the mountain near the Academy, but the children were all glad to do it. Halfway through, Pundit got tired and Liesl had to carry her, but they reached a clear, bright meadow before too long.

 

They excitedly spread out a picnic blanket and then looked to Jon for more instruction. 

 

“Alright, don’t just stand there, go off! Play tag or something!” He laughed, taking a sandwich out of their basket for himself. 

 

Friedrich tapped Kurt’s shoulder and the two of them rushed away, running with no destination planned. 

 

Liesl wandered to a nearby wildflower patch and began selecting the nicest of them. 

 

Brigitta stayed on the picnic blanket near him with Pundit curled up beside her. 

 

“Father’s lying about dogs not being allowed in the house, you know,” Brigitta said, taking a bite from her sandwich, “We used to have a dog.”

 

“Oh?” Jon asked. 

 

“Yes, well, she was- she was more mother’s dog, but father loved her a lot,” She continued quietly, “She was very sweet.” 

 

“Her name was Lucca,” Louisa supplied, “She looked a bit like Pundit actually, but brown.”

 

“I think the only reason father doesn’t want another dog is because he doesn’t want to replace her,” Brigitta said, bitterly, “But it’s not fair! I hardly ever knew her, and I want a dog!”

 

“I’m sure in time your father will come around,” Jon said, mildly, watching Brigitta feed a bit of her sandwich to Pundit. 

 

“No,” Louisa said decidedly, “No he’s going to be grumpy forever.”

 

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true,” Jon said.

 

“It’s just how he is!” Kurt said running back from whatever game he was playing with Friedrich, “He’s been that way for years.” 

 

“That doesn’t mean it’s forever though,” Jon said thoughtfully. 

 

Kurt just shrugged, grabbed his sandwich out of the basket and scampered back over the meadow. 

 

“Herr Lovett, can we do this everyday?” Louisa asked, laying back in the grass. 

 

“Don’t you think you’d get tired of it?” Jon answered. 

 

“I suppose… but really I haven’t had so much fun since we filled Fraulein Agatha’s teapot with salt water.” She giggled and her sisters joined in. 

 

“I can’t understand why such clever, and lovely children would play such horrible tricks.” Jon said, mildly. 

 

“How else are we supposed to get father’s attention?” Liesl asked, returning with a small bouquet. 

 

“Oh I see,” Jon said, the pieces falling into place, “I suppose he doesn’t pay much attention to you if he’s not scolding you.”

 

A sad sort of silence settled over the group. Not for the first time, Jon felt horribly sorry for the Vietors. 

 

“What did you used to do together?” He asked, “As a family I mean?”

 

“Oh…” Liesl mused thoughtfully, “Well, we used to sing together sometimes.” 

 

“ _ Really?”  _ Jon asked, completely thrown. He couldn’t imagine The Captain singing, let along with a chorus of his children. 

 

“Yeah,” Friedrich said, ambling back to them out of breath, “we used to sing along with his guitar. Mother liked it especially.”

 

“Hmm,” Jon said, drumming his fingers on his leg. “Well, perhaps it’ll be good to remind him of what he’s missing.”

 

___

 

Baron Favreau tipped his head back and felt the wind rush through his hair. The clean country air felt like a revelation after so long in Vienna. Leo lay happily across his lap, panting in the breeze. 

 

“The mountains…” He said, dreamily, dragging his eyes across the landscape, “Mountains are just so marvelous.” 

 

“I had them put up just for you,” Tommy said, smirking. Favs hit his arm lightly. 

 

“Don’t tease me! It’s been so long since you’ve invited me out here, I’ve missed it.” He let his eyes linger on The Captain’s face, noting new lines by his eyes. They’d both gotten older in the past five years. Grief had pulled them further down the line than time. 

 

Still, Tommy looked better now than he did at the beginning of the month. He was smiling more, and held himself in a more relaxed manner. He no longer looked like he was expected to be a proper sea captain and command the lives of hundreds. Favs hoped that in some way, he was responsible for that change. 

 

He was broken from his thoughts by the sound of children laughing from above them. Curious, he looked up and saw a group of children climbing high up in the branches of the crab apple trees overhead. They were all chattering and giggling at once. A small golden dog raced from tree to tree, barking up at them. Leo put his paws up on the top of the car door and barked in return. 

 

“Oh look at that,” He said, smiling widely. 

 

Tommy gave a curious look towards all of the children, as if trying to place them, and then returned his eyes to the road. 

 

“Remember when we used to do things like that?” Favs asked, “We used to spend half the summer up in trees.” 

 

Tommy huffed a sigh, and rolled his eyes.

 

“I remember falling out of a lot of trees, if that’s what you mean.” He replied. “We were young and stupid then.” 

 

“Yes, but that’s the best part of being young,” Favs said, tipping his head back again, “Being so stupid.”

 

___

 

After arriving at the Vietor Estate and eating a hearty lunch on the back patio, Baron Favreau insisted that The Captain give him a tour of the grounds. The pretense for a walk alone was hardly needed, but Tommy indulged him anyways. 

 

“It’s really exciting for me to be here,” Favs said, gazing out over the river that flowed lazily through the grounds. 

 

“It’s hardly the first time you’ve been here,” Tommy said mildly. 

 

“That’s not what I meant, and you know that,” Favs answered.

 

“Oh,” Tommy said, in a mock suggestive tone, “You mean me? I’m exciting to you?”

 

“You know you are,” Favs said coyly. 

 

“For whatever reason,” Tommy said, absentmindedly swinging a leather riding crop in one hand. 

 

“There you go, running yourself down again,” Favs stepped forward, letting his shoulder brush against The Captain as he continued down the lane. 

 

“Well, you know, I’m a dangerous driver,” Tommy kept pace, “Glad you’re here to take the wheel.” 

 

“You really… make sense here.” Favs continued after a moment, “You really have a sort of-.... I don’t know.”

 

Tommy chuckled.

 

“You mean to say I’m more at home here, in the summer wind, and the green gardens, with the vastness of land surrounding us all like a peaceful sea.”

 

“Oh, don’t get all poetic,” Baron Favreau interrupted, rolling his eyes.

 

“You mean to say I’m more at home here, than in Vienna, at all your wonderous parties,” Tommy poked Favs with the crop, just to needle him, “Dancing with women in glittering dresses, keeping all talk of politics strictly off the table, and soaking myself in more champagne than I know what to do with?” He nudged Favs again. “Whatever could have given you that idea?” 

 

Favs punched his shoulder lightly and ran ahead a few steps before Tommy could retaliate. 

 

“I really missed this place.” He said, slightly mournfully, “It’s so wonderful and quiet. I don’t know how you can leave it so often.”

 

“Oh, I need to keep busy,” Tommy said, slowly catching up with him, “I find myself… wanting for distraction.” He fiddled with the crop, turning it this way and that in his fingers. 

 

“Is that why you’ve been visiting me in Vienna?” Favs said, keeping his tone as light as possible. 

 

“I wouldn’t call you a distraction, my dear Baron,” Tommy answered quickly, a smirk playing at his lips. 

 

“Well then,” Favs said, turning to face him completely, “What would you call me?” 

 

The Captain took a moment, tilting his head as though appraising the other man, but his smile gave away his teasing air.

 

“Lovely,” He said at last, “Charming, witty, graceful, the perfect host and… you’re going to hate me for this…”

 

Tommy stepped forward and took Favs’s hands. 

 

“And in a way,” Tommy said softly, “My saviour.” 

 

Favreau felt his heart melt. He squeezed Tommy’s hands comfortingly. 

 

“Oh, Tommy,” He said softly, heartfelt but still teasing, “You’re the biggest sap in the whole of Austria.”

 

“Oh, you have to let me say it!” Tommy proclaimed, gripping Favs’s hands as he jokingly tried to pull away, “It would be so ungrateful of me not to say you brought some meaning back into my life!” 

 

“Stop, Tommy!” Favs said, finally pulling free and laughing, “I suppose I’m something rather amusing.” He danced out of reach of Tommy’s crop when he lashed out to strike the back of Favs’s hand. 

 

“And yes, maybe I throw some of the best parties anyone’s ever been to,” He said, his tone still of false modesty. “But take that all away and what really do you have?”

 

“A wonderful, beautiful, ridiculous man,” Tommy answered without pause, “And my very best friend.” 

 

The Baron smiled. He opened his mouth to say something further when he only heard a calamitous chorus rising up from the river beside them. He and The Captain turned and watched in awe as a rowboat slowly floated towards them, stuffed to the brim with rowdy, singing children. The Baron recognized them all first as the children he had seen earlier, climbing trees, and second as the children he hadn’t seen in over a year. His own godchildren. 

 

___

 

Captain Vietor watched in apparent shock and anger as the rowboat sailed closer, and he saw at the helm, a laughing and slightly sunburnt Herr Lovett. He gripped the riding crop tightly to stop himself swearing in rage. 

 

“Oh look!” Liesl said, standing up in the boat and pointing, “Father’s home!”

 

It was as though she had said a magical command because all the children reacted by standing up themselves and waving at him happily. They made quite a racket yelling at him about how happy they were that he was home. 

 

“Hello Captain!” Herr Lovett called from the boat. His infernal dog was nowhere to be seen, thank god, but the sight of the man there, so happy and carefree among his children caused his heart to stutter. His children looked happier than they had in years. How had he not noticed? Was that what Friedrich’s laugh sounded like now? When had his voice gotten so low?

 

And what in God’s name were all his children  _ wearing? _

 

He saw the boat tip before it actually did and made to call out to them to sit down before they rocked the boat right over, but it was too late. Seven children and their caretaker tumbled into the river, shrieking and still laughing as they were all dunked in the warm river water. Herr Lovett stood, the water coming up to his chest, and tied the boat off quickly, before making sure the little ones climbed up to land alright. 

 

Baron Favreau giggled, glancing over at the stony faced Captain.

 

The children stumbled up the path in a wet crowd, all still chattering and giggling. What had gotten into them? Captain Vietor hadn’t heard them make so much noise in years. Anger still pulsed through him at the sight of the disarray, especially in front of a guest and he grit his teeth to maintain his composure. 

 

Without warning a long and loud whistle broken through the chatter. The children froze. 

 

“Straight line!” Captain Vietor barked, his boatswain still dangling from his fingers, “Quickly!”

 

The children obeyed, their wet shoes making pitiful sounds against the flagstone. Captain Vietor walked up and down the line, inspecting them, and then tugged Brigitta’s headscarf from her wet, clinging hair. 

 

Captain Vietor returned to Baron Favreau’s side, wincing at the look his friend gave him. Favreau looked sorry, and sad, like he wanted to say something but didn’t have the heart to. 

 

“You all remember your godfather,” The Captain said sharply, addressing the children, “Baron Jon Favreau.” 

 

“It’s really wonderful to see you all again,” Favreau said softly, “Tommy, why don’t I take them inside, and get them all dried off-” 

 

“They are perfectly capable themselves, Baron Favreau,” Captain Vietor said shortly. 

 

“I really don’t mind, Captain Vietor,” The Baron answered, with a tone of sharpness. It had been a long time since he had seriously called Tommy by his title. 

 

The Captain gave a curt nod and the children and The Baron all disappeared into the house. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Herr Lovett begin to follow them. 

 

“Not you, Herrlein,” The Captain snarled, “You stay here.”

 

___

 

Jon could feel anger brewing inside him. Glancing up he saw that anger reflected in The Captain’s eyes. 

 

The Captain stood, feet planted some ten feet away from Jon. In his hand he held Brigitta’s sopping wet head scarf. Jon straightened his spine, and squared his shoulders. 

 

“Herrlein,” Captain Vietor said, his voice dangerously calm, “How is it that my children just swanned in on a rickety rowboat, and upset themselves into the water in front of Baron Favreau?” He took a step closer, as though he could chill Jon’s sunny defiance by sheer proximity. “Because the only explanation that I have arrived at, is that through some act of sheer stupidity, you managed to forget my very simple instructions on how my children are to conduct themselves!” 

 

“Not forgetfulness,” Jon answered, soaking wet and smiling, “Willful ignorance.” He saw The Captain’s jaw clench. “I took it upon myself not to waste your children’s youth, and reminded them how to play” 

 

“And these?” The Captain held up the scarf, “Where did my children get these, ah-“ 

 

“Play-clothes.” Jon answered, simply. 

 

“Oh, is that what you call them?” Captain Vietor’s voice was icy. 

 

“I made them.” Jon said proudly, “From the drapes that used to hang in my room. I even made Pundit a collar to match.” 

 

“Drapes?!” The Captain snapped. 

 

“Oh yes,” Jon said, nearly drunk with the righteous anger that had been brewing all month, “It seemed a shame to waist perfectly good fabric.” 

 

“You mean to tell me, you dressed my children in homemade drapes and let them run about in Salzburg?!” The Captain shouted, “You are aware they have uniforms, are you not?!”

 

“Yes, but the children cannot play in those!” Jon countered, his voice rising.

 

“I think they’d come to me to complain, if they’d taken issue with how I dressed them.” The Captain answered.

 

“Oh, you- You really think they could?” Jon’s hands clenched into fists, “They’re far too afraid of you to do that!” 

 

“Afraid of me!” The Captain threw the scarf to the ground in a wet slap, “How  _ dare  _ you speak about my children-”

 

“I have to talk about your children to you!” Jon yelled, water droplets flinging off his curls, “You’re never home long enough to even know them!” 

 

“You have said quite enough!” 

 

“No, I have not and there are things about your children you need to hear!” 

 

The accusation hung heavily between them. Captain Vietor let out a shuddering breath of anger, and stayed where he was. His eyes were piercing through Jon like he was nothing, but Jon was too furious to care. 

 

“Your daughter, Liesl,” he began, “She’s nearly a woman, and you speak to her as if she’s a child.” 

 

“You will not say a  _ word  _ about Liesl,” The Captain took up his pacing.

 

“She’s going to be off doing her own things soon! She’s going to have her own life, and you’ll have no part in it because you refused to pay her any attention!” Jon continued, ignoring the interruption. “And Friedrich- 

 

“My son is not your concern!” 

 

“He’s frightened to so much as ask your advice! I probably know more about him, than you do!”

 

“Don’t you  _ dare  _ say another word!” The Captain rounded on him, but Jon didn’t even flinch. 

 

“Brigitta is by far the only one who actually enjoys my lessons. She’s brilliant at math-” 

 

“Herrlein! That is enough!” 

 

“Which you’d know if you let her get close to you!” Jon could feel himself shaking with rage, “Kurt’s not as tough as he pretends to be, he’s only a boy! You can’t keep casting him aside, like you do all of your children! Like you’d rather forget you had them!” 

 

“I said, that’s is enough!” 

 

“Louisa’s only cruel to her siblings to get your attention! She doesn’t know any other way! And the little girls just miss their father’s love! Oh, you have to love them, Captain, no one else in this world means as much to them as you-”

 

“You will be quiet!” 

 

“I will not!” Jon stamped his foot down, “I am not finished, Captain!” 

 

“Oh yes, you are, Captain!” 

 

Jon fell speechless. 

 

“Herrlein,” The Captain amended, “Now, you will pack your things, and return to the academy.” 

 

Jon could feel his throat closing, and hot angry tears well behind his eyes. He didn’t want to go back. It would break his heart to leave the children now, after growing to care for them so much. The sound of Liesl’s guitar floated out of the house on a breeze. The children’s voices soon followed, gentle and innocently sweet. Oh, he was going to miss them so much. 

 

“What’s that?” The Captain asked stiffly. 

 

“It’s singing.” Jon answered miserably. He was so  _ proud _ of them, and now he had to leave. 

 

“Yes, I can hear that,” The Captain said, his voice sharp, “but who is singing?” 

 

“Your children,” Jon said softly, “They were so excited to show you. I taught them something to sing for the Baron.” 

 

“The children?” The Captain’s voice was suddenly breathless. Jon turned to see the Captain had completely forgotten him. He was focused only on the sound of music swelling out of his home. His expression was unreadable as he stepped up to the door and disappeared inside. 

 

Taking a breath and wiping his eyes, Jon followed, wondering how he was going to explain this to the headmaster of the academy. Pundit had grown so fond of the children too. She would be so sorry to leave them all. 

 

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he almost didn’t notice an eighth voice join in to the chorus. As he came upon the parlour, his throat grew tight and he couldn’t stop a small gasp escaping. 

 

The Captain was there, standing with his children, and singing beautifully. His voice was so deep and pure that Jon could feel it in his own chest. The Baron was sitting nearby, completely enraptured. His hand lay across his heart and his eyes were shining as he stared at The Captain. 

 

 

The melody soared between the family, and Jon suddenly felt like he was intruding. He tucked himself behind the doorframe, unable to look away. 

 

The song came to a close, and the spell of stillness ended. The children were looking at their father with awe, and for the first time in the months that Jon had known him, Captain Vietor smiled. He was right, The Captain did have dimples. 

 

Brigitta surged forward and threw her arms around her father and The Captain hoisted her up into his arms, laughing. The others crowded around him, all relishing in his sudden warmth. 

 

“Oh, Tommy,” The Baron said from his place on the couch, “They’ve grown up so much since I’ve seen them. They’re  _ enchanting! _ You must be so proud of them!” He looked completely entranced. Jon was lost for a moment, trailing his eyes along the lines of The Baron’s face. He was certainly handsome, and his embroidered shirt hung open slightly, displaying his delicate collarbones. 

 

The Captain turned and caught Jon’s eye and Jon was suddenly aware of his wet clothes pressing coldly against his skin. With a quick nod, Jon fled as quietly as possible. Perhaps he could convince Frau Schimdt to let him take some food to the train station as an early dinner. He climbed the stairs, wincing at every puddle his shoes left. 

 

“Herrlein.” 

 

Jon turned to see The Captain standing in the foyer, looking up at him with an unreadable expression. 

 

“I…. I want to apologize,” he began, “I was unkind to you, and very rude… I am sorry.” 

 

“I’m far too outspoken,” Jon answered softly, “It’s one of my worst faults.” 

 

“No,” The Captain continued, “No, you were right to say what you did. I have been… neglecting my children. And they need their father.” 

 

“You still can be there for them,” Jon gripped the railing, “They do love you, I’ve seen how much they love you. They’ll help you remember how.” 

 

The Captain nodded thoughtfully, stepping closer. 

 

“You… You brought music back into my house. You can’t know how much that means.” His left hand clenched, and he took a breath, “My wife was, in all ways, the best of this place. Hearing my children sing-” Jon could see him struggle with himself for a moment, “It brought part of her back, and for that, I thank you.” 

 

Jon didn’t trust himself to speak, so he nodded solemnly and continued up the stairs. 

 

“Herr Lovett,” 

 

Jon stopped. 

 

“I… I would like you to stay here,” The Captain said, “The children are so fond of you, and you’ve done so much, more than you know I-… I ask you, please, stay here, with us, until the end of the summer.” 

 

“If I could help at all,” Jon said, his heart in his throat, “I’ve grown very fond of them as well.” 

 

The Captain smiled up at him for a moment and then stepped back to the parlour. 

__

 

Pundit jumped off Jon’s bed in alarm as he threw his door open.

 

“Oh Pundit!” He exclaimed, picking her up and kissing her, “I was absolutely right about everything!” 

__

 

“Oh Bravo!” The Captain shouted, his grin wide and his eyes sparkling. 

 

Jon laughed, watching as the children scampered off their makeshift stage, still holding the puppets they’d used to put on a show, and crowded around their father. 

 

“You were so funny!” The Baron said, lifting Gretl into his lap, “I’ve haven’t laughed that hard since your father fell off his bicycle into a river.” 

 

“Did you really, papa?” Gretl squealed, as the others looked over eagerly. 

 

“Yes, I did,” The Captain said, still grinning. “But what Baron Favreau neglects to tell you is that he’s the one who pushed me.” 

 

The children erupted into more giggles as The Baron began shepherding them towards the parlor. The Baron had only been there a week and still the children had warmed up to him as though he’d always been there. Jon chanced another glance at The Captain, who was chattering away with Brigitta, his smile wide. It suited him to have such a bright, happy grin. Jon was beginning to forget what he looked like when he scowled. 

 

“Oh, Herr Lovett,” Baron Favreau called, “You’ve helped them put on such a wonderful performance. Is there no end to what you can do?”

 

“Well, I don’t think I’ll make a very good professor.” Jon joked, warmth fluttering under his ribs. 

 

“I must say, I really am incredibly impressed,” The Captain said, glances over his shoulder from where he stood at The Baron’s side.

 

“They’re your children.” Jon said, fondly. The Captain chuckled in response, letting his daughter pull him forward into the parlor. 

 

“Oh, Tommy, you know what would be a lovely thought?” The Baron said, looking over his shoulder, “What if they children sang in the Salzburg festival at the end of the summer? They’d be adorable!”

 

“Oh please!” Louisa gasped, grabbing Liesl’s arm, “Papa, that would be so much fun!” 

 

“Oh no, put that out of your head,” The Captain chided gently, “Singing for Baron Favreau is one thing, but singing in public is quite another, and I won’t allow it.” 

 

The children all grumbled, and Jon couldn’t help smiling. The last month had certainly changed Captain Vietor, but deep down he was still the stern sea captain that Jon had met. 

 

“Alright, children,” He said, gathering them all together, “Who should we hear from next?”

 

The children looked conspiratorially between them, and for a moment Jon thought he was being set up. Then Liesl leaned in close and whispered something in his ear that shocked him. 

 

“ _ Really?” _ he asked. She nodded excitedly and held out her guitar. Jon took it and confidently approached The Captain.

 

“The vote is unanimous,” he said brightly, “The children want to hear you play.” 

 

For the first time, Jon saw The Captain’s face cloud with fear. Then as quickly as he’d seen it, the look vanished and he let out a small laugh. 

 

“Oh no, god, no,” he said, pouring himself a drink from the nearby bar.

 

“Oh, please,” Jon pressed, “Apparently you were once very good!” 

 

“Well, that was a very,  _ very  _ long time ago,” The Captain said, pushing past Jon to sit on the couch. 

 

“I remember you playing, Tommy,” The Baron said, a soft note of sadness in his tone, “You used to love singing for us all.” 

 

The Captain looked at The Baron for a long moment, and Jon felt a strange pang of envy for their closeness. There was no denying that the two of them shared something that was sacred.

 

“Alright,” Captain Vietor said, holding his hands out for the guitar, “Let’s see what I remember.” 

 

The children all gathered eagerly at his feet, grinning up at him. Leo hopped into Friedrich’s lap and turned over for belly rubs.  It was easy to picture a similar scene some five years ago. The Captain strumming the guitar sweetly, his children kneeling around him in adoration, and a dark haired woman leaning gently on his arm. 

 

“Play us something we know,” Kurt requested, to a murmur of agreement. 

 

“Alright, hm,” The Captain said, plucking out a few hesitant notes. 

 

_ Edelweiss, Edelweiss _

_ Every morning you greet me _

_ Small and white, clean and bright _

_ You look happy to meet me _

_ Blossom of snow may you bloom and grow _

_ Bloom and grow forever _

_ Edelweiss, Edelweiss _

_ Bless my homeland forever _

 

The Captain’s voice was clear and low and the song seemed to bleed from him without effort. Jon felt his heart swell at the sound of something so gentle and genuine. 

 

Liesl joined her father in a counterpoint over the second verse, and Jon saw The Baron sigh. Jon could have bet that her mother used to sing that part. The song slowly came to a close and The Captain lowered the guitar almost shyly. He ran his hands reverently over the neck like he couldn’t quite believe he’d done that. 

 

“Anytime you want, Tommy, you and I can start up our little double act again,” The Baron teased, “You on guitar, me on the keys, we’d be the talk of Salzburg.” 

 

The Captain laughed, resting his chin on the head of the guitar. 

 

“Oh, or-!” The Baron sat up excitedly, “We should have a party!”

 

The children all gasped and turned to each other to whisper. 

 

“A party, Favs?” The Captain asked, his eyebrow quirked. Jon couldn’t help but notice the fondness with which The Captain used The Baron’s nickname. 

 

“Yes!” The Baron said firmly, “I deserve to meet all your friends here, and you deserve a night to see them all.” 

 

Jon couldn’t help smiling at the way The Captain looked, cornered on his own couch by his seven eager children and one extremely charismatic Baron. Jon enjoyed the picture for a moment longer before deciding to rescue him. 

 

“Alright, children, come on and get to bed,” he said.

 

“Must we?” Friedrich asked, scratching Leo’s ears. 

 

“You’ll all have lots of time to think about parties tomorrow.” Jon said, ushering them all up, “C’mon, say goodnight to your father.”

 

The children all crowded around their father to kiss him goodnight, and then followed Jon into the foyer and up the stairs. 

 

“Will we really have a party, Herr Lovett?” Louisa asked. 

 

“Well, it depends on what your father says,” Jon answered. 

 

“If you told him how much you’d like a party, I’m sure he’d throw a party.” Brigitta said, causing Jon to miss a step. 

 

“Your father will make up his own mind about it,” he said as sternly as possible, “Now off to bed.” 

 

__

 

In the end, the party was planned. The guests were invited, the kitchens stocked, and the beautiful ballroom that Jon had been quietly admiring his whole stay was cleaned from floor to chandelier. 

 

The Baron insisted on helping with everything from choosing the music to organizing the table settings. 

 

“Herr Zeller can sit… Well, as far away from The Captain as possible,” The Baron said, staring down a frankly daunting stack of place cards. 

 

“Oh?” Jon asked, looking up from his book. 

 

“Yes.” The Baron said, icily, “At least unless you want a duel between the entreé and desserts.” 

 

“What makes them so at odds?” Jon pressed. 

 

“Well, apart from Herr Zeller being a repulsive human being, and a fascist,” The Baron replied, his tone more disgusted than Jon had ever heard, “But he supports the  _ Anschluss,  _ which makes him distinctly more likely to bait Tommy into a fight.”

 

The Baron must have seen Jon’s horrified expression because he grimaced in turn and said “If it were up to me, he wouldn’t be there at all.” 

 

“Why has he been invited?” Jon asked, his throat suddenly very dry. 

 

“He hasn’t,” The Baron said, still sharp, “but in the highly likely event that he just  _ shows up _ unannounced I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of causing the ruckus he’d like to cause. So,” He placed the card in formation with more force than necessary, “We’ll put him next to Baroness Weber and Major  Fischer. She’s hard of hearing, and he’s likely to get drunk in the first ten minutes, so really, it’s the place the rat will do the least damage.”

 

Jon couldn’t help feeling slightly relieved at The Baron’s reaction. The mention of the  _ Anchluss  _ made him more frightened than he could put into words. He couldn’t stand the thought of his wonderful country being infected with such a hateful intention. He quietly returned to his pages, leaving The Baron to his arrangements. 

 

__

 

The day of the party dawned clear and warm and the whole house seemed filled with promise. The windows were shining in the sunlight, and it seemed every surface was dripping with flowers. Jon couldn’t help admiring the work everyone had put in. 

 

As the evening drew nearer, Jon was tasked with making sure all the children were dressed and ready. 

 

“Briggitta, come here, let me fix your hair,” Liesl called to her sister. Briggitta happily trotted up to her with a fistful of ribbons. 

 

Jon smiled at the two of them. The children had gotten washed up and dressed without much of a fuss and he was pretty sure it was due to their collective excitement. 

 

“Alright, if all you girls are ready, I’ll go check on the boys, and see if they’re as fast as you!” He said cheerily. Marta giggled at him, and twirled around in her pink party dress. 

 

He backed out the room and gasped. Standing only a few feet away was Captain Vietor, dressed in his finest. His suit was sleek and impeccably pressed. His lapel was adorned with the medals from his service and his large, rough hands were covered in delicate white gloves. 

 

“You sure look like you just stepped out of a catalogue,” Jon said, forgetting himself a little. 

 

“You think?” The Captain said, his voice quieter than usual, “I’ve worn suits like this to so many very different occasions that I find I never know how to act when I’m wearing one.” 

 

Jon smiled. The Captain, who had commanded an entire fleet of warships, was nervous about his own party. 

 

“This night is for you and Baron Favreau to relax a little,” Jon reminded him kindly, “No problem has ever happened at a party that couldn’t be solved with a few more glasses of champagne.” 

 

The Captain laughed gratefully. 

 

“I’m glad you’re here, Herr Lovett,” He said, placing a warm hand on Jon’s shoulder. Jon couldn’t help remembering that he was wearing the jacket The Captain had bought him. “I would be a wreck without you, and Favreau helping me.”

 

“Oh please,” Jon said, warmth seeping in through his shoulder, “I’m only wrangling the children. Compared to the party guests, they’re a walk in the park.” 

 

The Captain laughed again. Jon felt an odd sense of accomplishment. 

 

“I’ll see you later then,” The Captain said, letting his hand fall, “Wish me luck.”

 

“Good luck, Captain,” Jon said, saluting. The Captain laughed once more before disappearing down the stairs. Jon took a moment just remembering how glad he was that The Captain was happy again, and continued on his way. 

 

__

 

As it turned out, wrangling the children was easier than Jon could have imagined. All of them were perfectly content to watch the guests whirl around the dancefloor. They were so enraptured, that Jon took a small liberty and snuck himself a glass a champagne. He walked out to the gardens to amble through the high hedges. The summer night was warm and the champagne was cool on his tongue. He never thought he could be so content here, with the children happy, and The Captain smiling. He suddenly understood why Headmaster Pfeiffer had sent him here. 

 

Finishing the drink, Jon set the glass on a stone pedestal and made his way back towards the house. He was met with the most adorable picture of Liesl and Friedrich waltzing on the patio outside of the ballroom. 

 

“Oh bravo!” He said, clapping as the dance ended, “Why didn’t you say that you could dance?”

 

“We never thought there’d be another party here,” Leisl said, “So it really didn’t matter.” 

 

Jon just shook his head in disbelief. Things had really changed since he came here. The band struck up a new dance, a jaunty tune in three-four that Jon recognized. 

 

“What’s that they’re playing?” asked Louisa. 

 

“Oh, it’s called the Laendler,” Jon said, “It’s a folk dance.” 

 

“Will you show me?” Kurt said, stepping closer to Jon, “I wanna know for when I’m old enough to dance at parties like this.” 

 

“Kurt, I haven’t danced in years!” Jon protested, “and I don’t even know if I  _ know  _ the girl’s part.” 

 

“You’ll remember,” Kurt said earnestly, “Please?”

 

Jon sighed. These kids were going to be the death of him. 

 

“Alright, fine,” Jon said, trying to rapidly sort through dance moves and reverse them. “Come here” 

 

He took Kurt’s hands and led him to one end of the patio.

 

“Okay, let’s see how well I remember this…” Jon said cautiously, “First we walk, just, one two three, one, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three- Good!” 

 

He turned so he and Kurt were facing each other at arm’s length. 

 

“Alright, now step, hop! Step, hop! And we-” Jon tried to turn Kurt and then remembered he was supposed to be doing the girl’s part and they ended up in a tangle, “oh dear, we’ll have to practice this one.” He could hear Kurt laughing from behind him. 

 

“Allow me, won’t you Kurt?”

 

Jon froze as Kurt’s hands left him. He turned to see The Captain offering an elegant gloved hand. 

 

“May I?” He asked, courteously bowing. His smile was wry, like this was all a joke to entertain the children, but it was also very hard for The Captain not to look earnest. Jon took his hand breathlessly.

 

As the music continued, Jon found himself falling into his memory more and more. His feet knew the steps before he realized he was moving. The Captain was a gracious dance partner, giving him room to move, and guidance when he needed. His hands were gentle as he held Jon’s waist, his hands, the small of his back. It seemed too intimate like this. To dance out of sight of the party. The only witnesses being The Captain’s dear children, who seemed more than happy to see their father dance again. 

 

Unbeknownst to either of them, there was another witness, standing stock still in the doorway to the ballroom, a glass of frosted champagne in his hand. Baron Favreau watched as the couple danced together, as surely as if they had been doing it all their lives. There was a slight ache in his heart, making him feel hot and uncomfortable, as though he could cry. Without a word, he started toward the two of them quietly. 

 

Jon felt dizzy as the Captain turned him gracefully, until they were nearly dancing cheek to cheek. Gazing up at The Captain’s sharp features, Jon felt as though the world could melt away around him and he wouldn’t even know. He could stay like this forever. 

 

With a sharp breath, he stumbled back a little. 

 

“Oh I… I don’t remember the last bit,” He said, suddenly breathless. 

 

Captain Vietor was frozen in place, just staring at him. 

 

“You’re face is all red,” Brigitta helpfully supplied.

 

“I’m really not used to dancing,” Jon offered as an excuse. 

 

“That was beautiful!” The Baron said, effectively announcing his presence. The Captain turned sharply, as though shifting his attention in one motion. “Don’t stop on my account.” 

 

“Oh no,” Jon said, watching as The Captain turned back at the sound of his voice. “It’s time for the children to go to bed anyways.” 

 

“Oh,” The Captain said. He sounded disappointed. 

 

“Yes, come now children,” Jon said, “Let’s get you all upstairs.” 

 

“Good night, everyone,” The Baron said, leaning down to hug Marta, “Have sweet dreams!” 

 

Jon didn’t miss the way The Captain’s gaze darted back to The Baron.

 

He was just about to lead the children out to the foyer and up the stairs when-

 

“Herr Lovett.” The Captain called. 

 

Jon turned on his heel, a little too quickly. 

 

“I… I-” The Captain started, “Would you please join us all for dinner?” 

 

“Oh do,” The Baron chimed in, “Please, it would be lovely.” 

 

Jon felt cornered. He was about to say that he intended to take the children to bed, and make sure they were alright, but Liesl cut him off. 

 

“We can take care of the little ones,” She said, lifting Gretl into her arms, “Friedrich and I will be fine.” 

 

_ Traitor.  _ Jon thought, his face flushing again.

 

“I’m really not dressed appropriately,” Jon tried weakly. 

 

“You can get changed,” The Captain said, “You don’t need to worry, we’ll wait for you.” 

 

“I…” Jon couldn’t think of any other reason. Even the children had already disappeared upstairs. “Alright.”

 

“Perfect!” Baron Favreau said, his smile wide, “Come up with me, I’ll help you.” 

__

 

“It’s um… It’s nice of your to help me but I- I really don’t think I have anything-”

 

“You could borrow one of my coats.” The Baron said softly, “I have a lovely green velvet that would bring out your eyes.” He turned and pretended to bustle with some of Jon’s toiletries, when really he couldn’t keep the hurt off his face any longer. “I’m sure The Captain would think so.” 

 

The air between them froze. 

 

“The Captain?” Jon said, still brushing through his wardrobe. 

 

“Oh come now,” The Baron said, pushing his own hurt aside, “Let’s not pretend you haven’t noticed how he looks at you.” He ghosted his fingers over a pair of cufflinks on Jon’s dressing table. His only pair. 

 

“The Captain notices everything that goes on in his house,” Jon said, fighting the panic that rose up to choke him. 

 

“There’s no need to be worried,” The Baron turned back to Jon, “You are… You’re a very attractive man. It’s not surprising that he’s noticed. He’d hardly be a Captain if he didn’t.” 

 

“Baron Favreau, you really must be joking,” Jon said, looking away. 

 

“Not at all,” The Baron said, softly, “Not about any of it.”

 

“Oh but- I haven’t-” Jon paced the small space between his wardrobe and bed, hands twisting together in anguish, “But I didn’t say anything or- I never gave any sort of sign that I-”

 

“But you don’t have to,” The Baron said, “There’s nothing as irresistible as a good man in love.” 

 

“In love?” Jon whispered. The words paralyzed him, stopping him just steps short of The Baron.

 

“Yes,” The Baron replied, his heart breaking, “And what makes it so nice is that he’s fallen in love with you.” 

 

“But that  _ can’t _ be true,” Jon pressed, “I’m- I’m not what he’d- I’m his- I’m not-”

 

“You’re a wonderful man, Herr Lovett,” The Baron cut him off gently, gripping his shoulders, “...You know you blushed in his arms while you were dancing.” 

 

Jon stared into The Baron’s kind eyes, trying to find any humour or trickery. He found only a soft sort of sadness. 

 

“I should… They’ll be missing me by now,” Baron Favreau said thickly, before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Jon’s mouth, “I’ll… I’ll see you downstairs, Jon.” 

 

Jon stood for a long moment feeling the heat of The Baron’s body slowly seep out of his simple clothes. He lifted his hand and touched the place where The Baron’s lips had brushed him. A strange feeling coiled within him, making his heart race faster. 

 

“Oh no,” He said miserably, “Oh god, oh  _ no. _ ” He scrubbed quickly at his eyes trying to banish hot tears that sprung up from nowhere, and turned back to his wardrobe. He grabbed his bag, and threw it on the bed. 

 

Without giving himself time to think, he shoved all of his belongings in haphazardly. He had to stop for a moment, the guilt and sorrow overwhelming him. The Captain and The Baron belonged together, anyone with eyes could see that. He had no right to come between them. He wouldn’t hurt either of them like this. 

 

“H… Here girl,” he called to Pundit, waking her from her nap, “C’mon we- we’ve got to go back to where we belong.” 

 

__

 

Baron Favreau took a long moment outside Jon’s room, trying to hold himself together. He still had dinner to get through. He still had to sit at The Captain’s right hand and act like his heart wasn’t breaking all over again. 

 

He and Tommy had been friends for so long. When Tommy had gotten married, he’d stood beside him, and Tommy had stood at his wedding as well. When they were widowed within the year of each other, Tommy had mourned with him. They’d gone through the worst together. There were nights spent together devoted only to weeping with someone who understood. Favreau had loved his wife. Five years since her death, and he still loved her. 

 

He took a deep shuddering breath and banished any tears with a quick swipe of his gloves. 

 

He and Tommy had been- There was no word to describe what they’d had in the wake of such a tragedy. They’d been friends, they’d been closer than brothers, and they’d been desperately, passionately in love. Tommy was his lover in every sense of the word. He loved Tommy in all the ways two people could love each other. 

 

And Tommy had fallen in love with Herr Lovett. 

 

He understood why. Herr Lovett was beautiful in a way he’d never been. Herr Lovett was soft and gentle looking with a wit sharper than any Favreau had ever heard. Herr Lovett routinely put them all in stitches, and Favreau was certain he hadn’t laughed so much since his wife died. He had never seen Tommy so charmed and happy as when Herr Lovett was chattering away, spinning hilarious tales of the latest outing the children had gone on. 

 

But more than that, Herr Lovett had brought music back into Tommy’s life. He’d awoken Tommy’s love for his children again, something Favreau had been trying to do for years without success. There was no better man for Tommy to love, that much was clear. 

 

So, even if it killed him, Favreau would step away. He wasn’t about to ruin what might be the best thing for Tommy right now. He wasn’t going to stand in the way of his best friend’s happiness. He’d made his peace with Lovett, basically gave his blessing and now all that was left was to let his own heart heal over again. 

 

He straightened his back, and stepped down the staircase, allowing himself to be swept up into the glamour and warmth of the party. 

 

“There you are!” The Baron turned and felt the familiar rush of affection as Tommy stepped close to him, placing a hand on his arm, “I thought I’d lost you for a moment.”

 

“No,” The Baron said smiling blithely, “I don’t think you ever could lose me.” 

 

__

 

As the dinner guests laughed over glasses of champagne, Jon carried his bag and Pundit down into the front hall. He took one last lingering glance over the expanse of beauty that The Captain had shared with him, before slipping out the door and into the night.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> *There’s no equivalent honorific to “Fraulein” for men, married and unmarried men alike would be called “Herr.” “Herrlein” was coined in 1871 by Franziska Essenther in an article she wrote about how it wasn’t fair for women to addressed in relation to their marital status while men were not. Here, Captain Jackass is using it to undermine Lovett’s authority, and call him by a lesser title. 
> 
> __
> 
> there's more coming i promise, it might just take like another six months or something ;)


End file.
